In short, the 181 members of the Texas Legislature have what the rest of us consider "real jobs" that they'll return to when the current session adjourns May 30.

We in Texas love our limited government so much we don't let our lawmakers meet but every other year for 140 days. Then we pay them the princely sum of $600 a month for the honor of holding public office, which, if truth be told, boils down to enduring hours of dreary committee meetings on mind-numbing school finance formulas and inscrutable federal health care rules. To lighten things up, lawmakers throw in a few debates on pre-abortion sonograms and eminent domain.

Should we begrudge these public servants when, after all that fun, they go home to their jobs and try to earn a little money for themselves and their families?

Should it bother us if they vote on legislation that makes those jobs easier or more profitable?

That uncomfortable reality raised its head on the floor of the Texas House last week during debates on legislation to regulate the payday loan industry.

State Rep. Vicki Truitt, R-Keller, authored three bills because many consumers are trapped in a "cycle of debt" when lenders charge expensive fees for rolling over loans, and don't permit partial payment of the principal.

State Rep. Gary Elkins, R-Houston, who operates 12 payday loan locations, fought hard against Truitt's bills. In a speech to his House colleagues, Elkins acknowledged his personal interest. But he argued he was only offering expertise, as other lawmakers do on insurance, law or medicine.

"I hope you can give me some deference on this industry," he said.

Then things got awkward.

When Truitt argued that she had negotiated a compromise with industry groups on consumer disclosure requirements, Elkins complained it was too burdensome for his businesses.

Truitt, he said, had negotiated with the big operators who had "corporate lawyers on staff" to help comply with new laws.

"I'm just a little old business guy trying to set here and operate with these laws," Elkins said. "I ask you to vote no … so little guys like me can comply with these laws."

Later, he argued that another Truitt payday loan bill was "nothing more than an expansion of government trying to solve a problem that just doesn't exist."

"The only people complaining are not the consumers, the people complaining are the consumer groups that are paid. You cannot raise money without a cause. It is just so happens that payday lending is the cause they picked up because of the paternalism of our society," Elkins said.

Go toward the white light

Truitt saw it differently: "Isn't it true that you stand to add to your personal wealth considerably by killing the bills? Mr. Elkins, do you understand the concept of conflict of interest? I am a little surprised that you are so blatantly using your elected office to defend your personal business interests to the detriment of Texans."

Said Elkins: "On this particular issue, I am probably as knowledgeable as anybody and I think the body (the House) needs to hear the expertise."

State Rep. Lon Burnam, D-Fort Worth, asked the parliamentarian to read the House rules on conflicts of interest.

They boil down to this: Vote a white light (present, not voting) if the legislation will benefit you personally, not just your profession in its entirety.

No one enforces the rule, though. It's up to the conscience of the individual lawmaker.

I asked state Rep. Craig Eiland, D-Galveston, an attorney who often speaks on legal proposals, if Elkins had done anything wrong.

"He made the issue about him and his business," he said. "If we voted for him, it would look like the rest of the body was trying to protect another member's business."

The House approved Truitt's bills after accepting an amendment offered by Elkins weakening consumer disclosure requirements.

So let's review, members: Vote the green light for yes, the red light for no, and the white light to assure your constituents you are in Austin looking after their interests — not your own.